Grim Views

I take a short little stroll and come back te find me ol' tabard all chewed up. Holes in it. Parts missing. Any of ye got somethin' what can drive out the litter buggers 'at's been eating me colors?

Obliged.

- Attie

(( Certainly, I can stitch and darn that right up for you. Please have a seat in this comfy chair while you wait, and here is a cooling metal cap for you to wear, ignore the wires trailing from it to the ominously whirring machine that covers a wall add appears to recede into the distance of a strange dimension, and also here is a soothing tonic to quench your thirst after your long walk, ignore the glowing mist that swirls and pulses in colours that you cannot name and cannot see but nevertheless send burning chills down your optic nerves. I would not advise petting what looks like a cat. I would advise that most strongly. ))

((Ok. Cool thanks.))

Your tabard, Scalp Hunter? No, that object do be property of the Grim, as do all of ours. The tabard that you do recall now sits upon the chest of the last sounder of the Hunt. Adherent Gnarrdog.

He brings glory to de Mandate wit' it. Mebbe de tailor can equip you wit' a new tabard fo' better, more glorious, endeavors.

(( *looks up at Ul'rezaj, knitting furiously, sparks flying off the needles* "Shut. Up. I'm. Going. As. Fast. As. These. Talons. Will. Allow." *It is at this point that you realize that what you first took for knitting needles are indeed his fingers, stretched some how* ))

*scrawled quickly*

You know how to sew, fisherman.